Knussen: The Way
to Castle Yonder, Potpourri for Orchestra,
Op. 21a,from Higglety
Pigglety Pop! (1990)
Debussy: Three
Nocturnes for Orchestra (1897-99)
Vaughan Williams:
A Sea Symphony (1903-09)
If Robert
Spano did nothing more than increase public
awareness (at least in the United States)
of Ralph Vaughan Williams’ music, and of this
neglected work in particular, he would probably
secure a place in the conductors’ pantheon.
Last Saturday evening, in one of the most
thrilling performances of the New York season,
Spano brought all of his considerable talents
to bear on A Sea Symphony, that a friend
persuasively described as "a cross between
Ravel’s Daphnis and the Mahler Eighth."
This was Spano’s first Carnegie appearance
with the orchestra since his appointment as
its music director, and from what I heard,
it must be incredibly heartening to Atlanta
residents to see such magic taking place in
their own back yard.
From
the opening bars, with the legendary, disciplined
Atlanta chorus singing with a gutsy immediacy,
the performance swept through the hall as
if propelled on the same gales of wind and
water that define the work itself. (Let us
pause for a moment of thanks to Robert Shaw,
and again for their current director, Norman
Mackenzie.) I have not heard these same forces’
award-winning Telarc recording of this piece,
but if it is even close to what we heard Friday
night, it is no wonder that it earned such
praise.
The
work itself is a pretty astonishing first
symphony – full of assurance beyond its years,
with ravishing colors, some imaginative effects,
nontraditional structure, and above all, a
hefty command of a large orchestra and in
this case, an even larger chorus (almost 200
voices). Its texts are by Walt Whitman, grafted
from different sources with the common theme
of the ocean, and I particularly like the
fourth, The Explorers, from Passage
to India.
The
chorus launched into the opening "Behold,
the sea" that had people around me leaning
forward in attention, and things only got
better. Christine Brewer entered with luscious
tone that soared through the densest choral
textures, and there are a couple of dangerous
peaks that she seemed to navigate completely
at ease. Her ardent colleague, Brett Polegato
(also on the recording), brought a sensitive,
not to mention intelligently managed tone
to his part, and his voice blended beautifully
with Brewer’s. The orchestra made the most
of the ebb and flow that Vaughan Williams
summons so adroitly. Especially striking were
the trumpets and trombones, reveling in the
splendor that Vaughan Williams conjures up
to evoke the spray, power and mystery of the
ocean, and the woodwinds, whose clear, dreamy
warbling enhanced the sensation of being near
water flowing everywhere. And in the final
movement, the lower strings ended the piece
on a heavenly dark plain, the sound gently
disappearing into the distance as Spano’s
raised hands kept the audience waiting, collective
breaths held in virtual silence. Only when
his arms fell did the crowd erupt in cheers,
bringing out the conductor and the soloists
for six ovations.
The
two works that preceded this were cannily
chosen, with Ravel hovering over the entire
evening without actually appearing on the
program. The Knussen is fanciful (think of
Tombeau de Couperin and you wouldn’t
be too far off), and is also chock full of
coloristic effects that suit the Maurice Sendak
story. The excerpt mined for this suite is
light, not to be confused with lightweight,
and made a completely original beginning to
the evening. Special kudos to the percussionist
who was dealt the job of managing the insistent
and delightful castanets.
The
Debussy was also handled with shimmering finesse.
If the orchestra didn’t quite manage the quietest
of pianissimos now and then, such as in the
opening, no matter – their playing was still
of a very high caliber. Spano took tempi slightly
flowing, on the andante con moto side,
perhaps not as relaxed as I usually like in
this work, but still clear, communicative
and sensuous. In the final Sirènes,
the women of the chorus sounded marvelous,
even if overall, compared to the atmospheric
wizardry that Spano had conjured up in Nuages
and Fêtes, there didn’t seem
to be quite enough of that misty Debussy haze
from which clouds seem to slowly materialize.
But the sheer sound from these artists was
glorious; rock-solid intonation and unified,
secure attacks were pretty much taken for
granted after awhile.
Of late
there has been much discussion of new conductors
and orchestras’ meshing together: Eschenbach
and Philadelphia, Robertson and St. Louis,
Welser-Möst and Cleveland, Vänska
and Minnesota. Atlanta must be absolutely
thrilled to have someone who not only seems
to bring out the best in the orchestra, but
appears to have a savvy programming sense
and the ability to rise to the occasion, artistically,
on an evening when it really matters. If Spano
decides to present the remaining eight in
Vaughan Williams’ symphonic oeuvre I’d be
delighted, but whatever his intentions, he
seems to have already done much to spotlight
at least one underplayed masterpiece that
deserves a profoundly higher profile.
Bruce Hodges
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